Best Man for the Job. Meredith Fletcher

      Callan switched his gaze to her. “I need those pictures.”

      “I’m going with you.” Eryn didn’t relish spending the evening getting grilled by police officers. With as many people as there were involved with the kidnapping, investigators would waste hours just processing the attendees. Callan was right about that.

      And family was important. Even though Callan’s sister wasn’t in direct danger, Jenny Storm was going to be hurt if something happened to her fiancé. Eryn didn’t want that to happen for any of them. One of the main reasons she’d gotten involved in security work was to protect people. She still had nightmares about Megan’s death. Someone should have helped her, but no one had.

      Besides, whatever information they got from the images of the van might play out in minutes. Furthermore, if she could get away clean, without anyone from CS Sec finding out about her moonlighting for Renee, Eryn preferred that. Toby had never gotten her real name, and Renee took jobs through a booking service that protected the names of the performers.

      The investigators might not even try to find out who the woman in the cake had been—unless they jumped onto the same wrong assumption Callan had. Eryn took a deep breath and told herself that the kidnapping would be resolved by then. The police—the FBI—would stop looking. All she had to do was get out of the building and she’d be clear.

      Callan scowled. “You’re not going with me.”

      “Fine. You’re going with me.” Before he could stop her, Eryn stepped into the bathroom, locked the door and waited to see if Callan would tear the door off the hinges. She heard him pace outside for a moment, maybe growl a little, but he stayed on the other side of the door.

      Eryn undressed and dressed quickly. She dropped the skimpy attire into her purse, washed the exotic makeup from her face, and expertly glossed her lips and worked magic with a concealer. She moussed her collar-length hair and let it fall straight and professional, getting rid of the body she’d worked hard to infuse it with earlier. When she checked her reflection in the mirror, she was happy to see that a much different person looked back at her. She felt certain she could fade into the background of the hotel and leave without incident.

      But there was one other stop she needed to make if she intended to follow through on her impromptu investigation. Callan wouldn’t like it. She didn’t, either, because it would leave her more exposed than ever.

      When she opened the door, Callan spun on her. His irritation and stern features froze for just a moment, then he looked surprised.

      The other man in the room wasn’t so silent. “Wow. You look different.”

      Eryn didn’t respond. She deleted the images she’d taken from the memory card, wiped the phone clean of her fingerprints and Callan’s with a tissue, then handed Toby’s cell to man. “Get this to Toby. Tell him his sister called and she’s worried.”

      “Sierra? Sure.” The man nodded, still not taking his eyes from Eryn. “You know, you look even hotter now.”

      Terrific. She checked her phone again, making sure she had the images she’d sent from Toby’s phone. Then she grabbed her travel bag and makeup kit from the bed.

      Callan blocked the doorway. “Two things. You’re not going with me. And I need those pictures.”

      She returned his glare with one of her own. “Two things. You try to get out of here without me and I blow the whistle to the hotel security.” She took a breath, testing her resolve and discovering—without surprise—that she still couldn’t shake it. “I also think you’re right about Daniel Steadman’s kidnapping being an inside job. Which means I’m going to try to help you.”

      “I don’t need you tagging along.”

      “If I let you walk away, that makes me responsible.”

      “For what?”

      “For anything stupid that you do.” She eyed him levelly. “That’s the deal, soldier. Take it or leave it.”

      Callan growled in the back of his throat and the sound thrilled through Eryn in ways she’d never experienced. She put the reaction down to adrenaline, to nearly dying, at being happy to still be alive. And then she wondered why she was in such a hurry to continue hanging around Callan Storm when bad things were sure to happen. At the very least her private security license was on the line, and she’d worked hard to get it.

      She held her gaze steady, not showing any of her inner turmoil. “Clock’s ticking.”

      “Fine.” From Callan’s abrasive tone, the answer was anything but fine. He reached out for her travel bag. She pulled it away, but he caught it and took hold. “If you’re carrying both bags while I’m walking around empty-handed, that’s going to draw attention.”

      Reluctantly, but knowing that what he said was true, Eryn let him have the bag. She wasn’t happy about any concession she made toward him.

      “Let’s go.” He opened the door and they went into the hallway.

      As he followed the woman down the stairwell, Callan cursed to himself. He couldn’t believe she’d insisted on coming along. She had no vested interest in anything that was taking place, despite her argument that she would somehow be held “responsible.”

      His lack of cell phone experience was a drawback. He’d have to remedy that at his first opportunity, but it wasn’t likely to be tonight. She turned and headed down the hallway toward his room. He studied her as he matched her determined stride. So what was her angle? Everybody had one, and they tended to be selfish.

      He gave himself a mental shake. Roll with it. For the moment you need her. She has intel that you need. Once you get it, you can flush her and drop her like a rock.

      The past few years, his missions had been in Afghanistan and Africa, in back areas that were barely listed on the map. Cell phones would have drawn enemy attention at once. He’d made do with human intelligence after the parameters of the missions had been drawn, operating independently behind enemy lines with a handful of people that might or might not betray him. He was currently functioning out of his depth, in foreign terrain, and he knew it.

      He used his keycard on the door to his room and went inside. Behind him, the woman reached for the light. He caught her hand and stopped her.

      “Leave the light off.”

      Through her hand, he felt her body go tense. It took him a moment to remember to release her. Touching her sent an electrical current through him that he would have sworn he’d never before experienced. He didn’t know what it was about the woman that affected him so much, but he disliked it. She infuriated him on so many levels. Yet when he touched her, he seemed to get brain-locked.

      Stupid. Pay attention. You need to help Daniel.

      Callan turned away from her, grateful that the room was dark so she couldn’t see his face, because he didn’t know what she might see there. “Security may check to see if I’m here. If they see a light, they’ll know I’m around.”

      “Okay.” She didn’t sound sure of herself. The darkness in the room was nearly complete except for the neon glow from the Strip filtering around the heavy drapes.

      Reaching into his pocket, Callan took out the small Mini Maglite he usually carried. A professional soldier who habitually risked his life never went anywhere without light, a way of making fire and a knife. Antitank weaponry and an escape helicopter were much harder to pack. He had all of those basic things, though the Swiss Tinker blade he carried wouldn’t count much as armament facing automatic weapons.

      He switched the light on and directed the white light against the ceiling. He dialed the wattage down to a glow that barely reflected against the overhead tiles and only just lifted their silhouettes from the darkness.

      “Here.” He handed the light to the woman. “Give me a minute to get dressed.” Before she could respond, he turned and crossed to the small